


Breathe my air and I'll be fine

by linndechir



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Oral Fixation, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/pseuds/linndechir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“The view is spectacular,” Q comments as he joins Bond on the roof.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“It is,” Bond agrees, but he's not looking out over the city. Q's lips are a startling red in his pale face, they always look like someone just kissed him breathless. </i>
</p>
<p>Written for the <a href="http://heeroluva.livejournal.com/250594.html">Five Acts Meme on LJ</a>. Prompts: oral fixation, breath, kissing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe my air and I'll be fine

“The view is spectacular,” Q comments as he joins Bond on the roof. It's cold, Q is wrapped in a too large jacket that makes him look even frailer, his hands buried in his pockets. He comes to stand next to Bond, doesn't seem concerned with whether he's welcome or not.

“It is,” Bond agrees, but he's not looking out over the city. Q's lips are a startling red in his pale face, they always look like someone just kissed him breathless. They must be dry in the cold air, and Q licks them quickly, worrying at them for a moment with his teeth. Small puffs of air linger in front of his mouth when he breathes out. Bond wants to grab him, to kiss and bite those red lips until they're even redder, to turn Q's breath into gasps and moans and catch those in his mouth.

Instead he reaches for the cigarette case in his coat.

“Do you smoke?”

“I try not to,” Q says, but he looks tempted – bites his bottom lip again. Takes a cigarette when Bond offers him the case, breathes in deeply when Bond lights it for him. 

His slender fingers look pale against the dark fabric of his coat, he shivers again in the cold, but the blissful smile on his face is one Bond knows too well himself, that of someone who tries to smoke as little as possible and enjoys every cigarette all the more for it. Right now, though, Bond almost forgets about the cigarette that hangs lit in the corner of his own mouth, eyes still fixated on Q. The way his lips rest almost tenderly against the paper, red on white, the way his mouth stays a little open when he keeps the smoke in his lungs before breathing it out slowly, lips puckering. The way his lips move when he speaks again.

“I'm glad to see you managed not to lose the lighter I built for you.”

Bond had almost forgotten about the lighter, takes a slow drag from his own cigarette to cover the pause.

“I didn't take it with me on a mission yet.” 

That earns him an exasperated look, but Q seems too content right now to berate Bond for his bad habits. Finishes his cigarette slowly, seemingly unaware of Bond's gaze clinging to his lips. There is almost a look of disappointment in his eyes when he drops the stub; Bond follows his example a few moments later.

“Well, I had better get back inside,” Q says with a smile. “Some of us have actual work to do.”

Bond doesn't really think about it, just steps closer before Q can turn away and crowds him against the rail of the roof. Sometimes he almost forgets that Q is barely smaller than him, and he can feel Q's warm breath washing over his face, hitching in surprise when Bond raises his hand to touch Q's cheek. 

Q's skin is soft and cold, but his lips are warm when Bond runs his thumb over them, just a light, gentle touch at first.

“Not here,” Q starts, but his voice quivers a little, and not only from the cold. 

“Just for a moment.” Bond is so close that he can almost _feel_ the sharp intake of breath, the moment of hesitation before Q turns his head ever so slightly to meet Bond's hand. Parts his lips just enough for Bond to slip his thumb between them, then sucks it in, teeth grazing Bond's knuckle while his tongue presses against the calloused fingertip. The sight is mesmerising, but it lasts only a moment before Q's lips quirk into a smile and he pulls back his head to release Bond's thumb. His eyes are full of mirth and a bit of mischief – Q is no innocent, he knows exactly what he's doing. There's no resistance when Bond's fingers tighten on Q's chin, and he finally kisses those red lips – gleaming wetly now even before Bond's mouth crushes against Q's, hungry and impatient. Q's mouth tastes of smoke and Earl Grey, it feels as irresistible as it looks.

Q breaks the kiss too soon and Bond can't bite back the frustrated growl that escapes his throat. Q's nose is as cold as ice against Bond's, but those warm lips are barely an inch away, so tempting, so inviting. But then there's a hand on Bond's chest, a light pressure that makes him pause.

“Not here,” Q says again, and this time it doesn't sound like token resistance. Bond sighs, still breathes a brief kiss onto Q's lips before he lets go of him and steps back.

“Tonight.” It's not a question, and the only answer he gets is that smug, confident smile. Q's fingers adjust his glasses before they return to the warmth of his pockets. He starts to walk away, but stops after a few steps to look back over his shoulder, turning just enough that Bond can see his profile when Q bites his lips again and says, “Thank you for the cigarette, 007.”


End file.
